Say It
by semul
Summary: The obvious is revealed after a bottle of scotch. A light-hearted moment between Michonne and Rick. Takes place sometime in the future when Negan is dead. One-shot.


"No, no, no. You know what, M'chonne? I'd be dead. I'd be dead if wan-n't for you."

Michonne tiredly sighed at the man sitting across from her at the table. He unsteadily wobbled in his chair as he stared at her with half-lidded blue eyes. Usually, she'd find that look sexy, arousing even. Right now, though, the unfocused look and erratic blinking only inspired her eyebrow to arch disbelievingly.

"Yeah, you said that already."

"Did I?" he asked in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice, squinting his eyes. "I-I-I don't think I did." He shook his head clumsily as he reached for his empty glass.

She closed her eyes impatiently. He had been repeating the same few phrases over and over for the past hour. It was like listening to a person with short-term memory loss point out random facts from their life. It was amusing the first few minutes: now, it was just starting to wear her patience thin.

Although, she shouldn't complain. The good part about a drunk Rick Grimes was that he was a repetitive one, not a brooding one like she'd expected. Though brooding would be far more sophisticated than what she was currently witnessing.

She opened her eyes in time to see him tilt all the way back in his chair, inelegantly attempting to lick the last drop of scotch inside his glass. She blinked at him wordlessly as he wildly tongued the clear glass. _At least something was getting some action tonight,_ she thought cynically.

After finally defeating Negan, there was actually a reason to celebrate. But given how much they'd lost in the battle, how many casualties it had taken, the celebration was reduced to a night alone with a big bottle of scotch. Carl and Enid had offered to take Judith for the night. They stayed in the neighboring house with Daryl.

It was still difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that Carl was growing into a responsible, young man. He was just as tall as her now, his voice as deep as his father's. Despite living in a world that was more hell than earth, he still had a kindness about him, an idealism that would help lead them into a better world. And though they laid such a great responsibility at his feet, to her, he'd always be that smiling little kid in the cowboy hat who loved reading comic books.

She sighed forlornly at the memory. Reminiscing always came with its moments of sadness, wishing things didn't have to change yet grateful for realizing how far they'd come.

Hearing her melancholy sigh, Rick immediately lowered his glass and looked at her with his brow knit in concern. "You a'right?" he asked with his voice full of worry.

She tilted her head at him with a sad smile. "Yeah, fine. I'm fine."

She slowly stood up, grabbing the near empty bottle from the table. If she didn't stop him now, he'd finish off the bottle. She didn't want to turn this into an acceptable practice every time they had a moment of downtime, especially when he was one of the few people left in this world who had every reason to happily drown his sorrows in a bottle. It was too easy. She didn't want to see him lose himself like that. She carefully placed the cap back on the bottle before returning it to the cupboard.

"You don't look fine." She heard him plainly state behind her.

Leave it to Rick to still be observant even when he was drunk off his ass. She tentatively turned around, refusing to look him in the eye. She hung her head as a pained look came over her face. She couldn't help it. She could've joined him tonight, kicked back the other bottle of scotch they'd found, and reveled in a moment of blissful haziness but she didn't. She couldn't. She didn't deserve to forget. She was alive because others weren't.

She heard the chair scrape against the dining room floor. She could hear him struggle to stand upright, leaning against the table and grabbing the chair for support. She wanted to tell him to stop but she knew there'd be no point. There was nothing more stubborn than a man wasted out of his mind. She crossed her arms as she heard him shuffle toward her.

Once he reached her, he unsteadily extended his hands to grip her arms. He lowered his chin and looked at her intensely. She raised her sullen gaze. He hated to see her sad or ashamed, especially when she'd done nothing to deserve such self-inflicted torture. She needed to see things the way he saw them. He couldn't let her continue to punish herself.

He pursed his lips determinedly. "Don't do that," he said, almost soberly, "Stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault. None of what happened was your fault. It's not mine either."

She studied his gaze carefully. Although he wasn't in all his five senses, he was telling the truth. Life had dealt them a shitty hand. They did what they had to. That wasn't on anybody. She lowered her gaze and nodded in agreement.

"We did what we had to do to survive. And we did. We're still here. Now, we just gotta move on. Live our lives." He nodded as he attempted to soothingly rub her arms but only managed to lose his balance. She gripped his elbows to steady him.

"What you need to do is lay down," she declared tiredly.

 _There goes the moment of sobriety,_ she determined somewhat lamentably. She liked listening to Rick, she liked talking to him about all the things she couldn't talk to anybody else about. Right now could have been a great time to share everything she was keeping bottled up but judging by his inability to stand without her help, she'd have to wait until tomorrow.

He shook his head adamantly, trying his best to fight off his inebriated state. "I'm good. I'm good. I just need to…stop dizzying," he slurred, as he tottered unsteadily in her arms. Unfortunately, it was starting to look like that this was a fight he wasn't going to win.

His articulacy – or rather lack thereof – won a small smile from her. She half-heartedly rolled her eyes and looked at him warmly. Even stumbling and bumbling, he melted her heart. She could definitely wait until tomorrow to lay the heavy stuff on him. Tonight was his night. This was what he needed to begin the healing process. She could give him this. Although, now, she needed to quickly switch gears, distract him from wanting to delve into her sadness.

"Yeah? You so good, touch your nose and walk in a straight line," she challenged, gripping his arms tightly.

He arched his brow suggestively, his one-track inebriated mind immediately redirecting itself to how hot she sounded when she was dominating him. He clumsily pulled her into her arms and snuggled comfortably. "Mmm, Officer 'Chonne, you tryin' to seduce me?" She steadily kept her hands on his biceps, hoping that he wouldn't lose his balance and pull her down with him. She scoffed lightly, attempting to keep them both upright.

He breathily whispered, his lips rubbing against her ear. "What'll you do if I don't?"

She tilted her head, moving her now damp ear from his reach. As seductive as he thought he was being, it felt like an overeager, oversized, clumsy puppy was attempting to romance her. A quiet snort escaped at the visual.

She maneuvered her way until her lips were next to his ear. "You're drunk. You know that, right?" she whispered back.

He pulled away and scoffed inelegantly, teetering out of her arms. "Nah I'm not. I never get drunk. Never ever, never." He was starting to sound as eloquent as his daughter. It was a sign that she needed to put him down for the night.

She shook her head with a smile, holding him steady with her arms. "I'm seeing a whole new side to you, Grimes. I'm not sure if I like it." She placed one of his arms over her shoulders, letting him lean his weight on her.

He smiled down at her smugly. "You like me."

His confidence amused her. "Do I now?" She carefully turned him and began guiding him toward the couch.

He grunted as they stumbled toward the living room. "Yeah, you do."

She groaned as she finally sat him down on the couch. "How do you know that?" she asked breathlessly, arranging him in a sitting position.

He leaned his head back against the couch with a grunt. Once he'd found a comfortable position, he let out a sigh and closed his eyes. "Because I like you, too."

She froze and looked down at him affectionately. He used the same logic she'd given him after that horrifying encounter with the Claimers. He'd remembered even when he wasn't sober. For being such a gruff man, there were moments when he was outright adorable.

She dropped down next to him, resting her head back against the couch as well. She stretched out and yawned, her body relaxing enough to recognize how tired she felt. "That's right, you better. I haven't put up with you all this time for nothing," she teased, instinctively reaching out for his hand to hold.

He entwined their fingers and lolled his head toward her, his eyes still closed. "Actually, I think I love you." He knit his brow as if considering his words before reaffirming what he'd said. "Yeah, I do. Love you," he murmured sleepily, his pink lips slowly parted as he began breathing deeply.

She blinked in surprise. It was the first time she'd heard those words from him. Rick wasn't the type to go around verbalizing things that he knew he was better at showing. She knew he loved her even though he'd never said it. The way he looked at her, talked to her, listened to her, cared for her, made love to her said everything she needed to know. He'd never needed to say it and she never needed to hear it.

But that simple fact couldn't stop her heart from skipping a beat.

It was certainly nice to know but she knew he was too plastered to remember what he'd said in the morning. She didn't mind. Besides, there was no way she was going to hold him responsible for what he'd said when he was four sheets to the wind. There was no telling what words would come out of her mouth were she in his position. She wouldn't want to be held responsible for that so she would provide him with the same courtesy.

She reached over with her other hand and brushed a few stray curls from his face. His eyebrows lifted at her gentle touch on his skin. She quietly watched him as his eyelids fluttered open sleepily as if sensing her silent stare. She could tell he was making a nearly inhuman effort to stay awake. He gazed at her expectantly, awaiting a reply to his previous claim.

She could only respond with a soft, "Yeah?"

"Mmm," he mumbled affirmatively. "And it's not just the scotch talkin'."

She looked at him solemnly, studying the depths of those dazzling blue eyes that had won her heart over long ago. "I do, too."

He shut his eyes and sniffed, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. He slightly lifted his hips as he adjusted his position on the cushions. "Say it. Need to hear you say it," he muttered.

She inhaled deeply, her heart thundering in her chest. After a moment, she finally uttered the words he'd longed to hear.

"I love you," she said quietly.

Squeezing her hand, he raised it to his chest. He clumsily bent his head and laid a kiss on her soft skin. He rested his head back again and lowered her hand slightly, keeping it close to his chest. "I'mma hold you to that in the mornin'," he warned gruffly. "N'you hold me to mine."

She smiled as she watched him fall asleep next to her. His hand tightly in hers, her heart entirely in his.

* * *

 **Hi again!**

 **So I woke up this morning to a lovely review from Nora requesting more of my Richonne writing. I've got to say I felt outrageously happy and immediately got to work on this piece.**

 **The Richonne fandom has been so graciously accepting and encouraging of my writing and I just want to take a moment to say thank you. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart! You truly make me feel valued and I appreciate you all taking the time to write me encouraging words of praise. You'll never know how much it's meant to me.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this short piece. I certainly enjoyed writing drunk Rick and sober Michonne. :) Hope to hear from you soon!**

 **Your over-the-moon writer,**

 **semul**


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